Chapter 7 Five Hundred Thousand Dollars in Seven Days

Chris glared down at her, his words dripping with venom.

Amelia felt like a puppet, completely at his mercy, stripped of any dignity.

"You just divorced me and you're already hunting for husband number two?" Chris sneered, seeing her bite her lip in silence. "Dressing up like a courtesan, hoping to trade yourself for a better price?"

"Shut up!" Amelia snapped, her patience finally breaking.

Her eyes were red, locked onto his. "Why do you even care about what I do? Can't let go, huh? Regretting the divorce? How can you say such nasty things—Mr. Spencer, you never fail to surprise me!"

"I'm the nasty one?" Chris's smile vanished, replaced by a deep hate. "Who could be more vicious than you?"

His cold, stern gaze reminded her of the past, though those actions weren't her choice.

"What do you want from me? Even if I was wrong, haven't I paid enough? We're divorced. Fine, target me, but why go after an innocent person?" Amelia wiped her tears, her voice filled with hatred.

"Target him?" Chris sneered. "Is he even worth it?"

Amelia's back stiffened as she saw him wave dismissively, telling his subordinate, "Let that fool go."

She sighed in relief, but Chris's mocking voice cut through again, "That playboy's handsome enough for you. Make sure you sell yourself for a high price."

Amelia's mind went blank. His words echoed in her ears. Did he hate her that much? Had he never cared for her?

"Mr. Spencer, save your concern!" Amelia, gathering her strength, said firmly, "Who I marry or what happens to me is none of your business."

"Not so fast." Chris crossed his arms, eyeing her.

"What do you mean?" Amelia gritted her teeth.

One of Chris's assistants stepped forward, handing her a medical bill. "Miss Tudor, this is the amount your father has spent since yesterday, totaling eighty thousand dollars. His condition is unstable, and he needs to stay in the hospital for a few more days. You'll need to pay five hundred thousand dollars."

Amelia's heart shocked. Chris's private hospital was worth the price, but she was barely getting by. How could she come up with that kind of money?

"I think it's a small matter for Miss Tudor. After all, you sold yourself for two billion dollars back then." Chris's gaze was icy, his expression meaningful. What he meant was that she could sell herself again for about the similar price.

Amelia's self-esteem and love were so crushed that she couldn't speak, her heart aching heavily. She clenched her hand and turned to leave.

"Miss Tudor, you need to pay within a week," the assistant reminded.

"I will!" Amelia shot a glance at Chris.

This time, his coldness cut deep, leaving her with no lingering affection or regret.

How was she going to earn five hundred thousand dollars? She'd been a housewife for years, with no job. Even if someone hired her now, how could she make that much in a week?

Amelia walked out of the hospital in a daze, seeing Shawn approaching.

"What's your deal with Chris? Why's he treating you like this? Even if he's rich, this is too much," he asked, worried.

Amelia felt a flicker of warmth, ready to speak but held back. They were just school acquaintances; she couldn't drag him into this.

"Nothing, really. Thanks for today." She forced a smile. "I gotta go."

"How are you getting home? Don't rush off. Let me get your contact info. You can treat me to a meal later to say thanks." Shawn caught up, showing his phone number. "Add me."

Amelia hesitated but eventually added his number.

"How did you end up like this? I remember back then you..." Shawn trailed off, "Never mind. If you need any help, just let me know."

Amelia stopped, Chris's mocking face flashing in her mind.

She pursed her lips. "I don't need your help."

Shawn looked puzzled, "But I heard you owe him hundreds of thousands. I can lend it to you; just pay me some interest."

Amelia snapped, "I said I don't need it!"

After being mocked by Chris and facing the pressure of five hundred thousand dollars, Amelia was on the verge of breaking down. "Don't you get it?"

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Why was she taking it out on Shawn? If she had the guts, why not take it out on Chris?

"Sorry..." she mumbled.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she glanced at him, guilt-ridden. Feeling helpless, she crouched down, hugging her knees, her voice filled with despair. "What should I do?"

Shawn, not the most observant guy, could still see she was having a rough day. He didn't mind her outburst but hated seeing a girl sad. Scratching his head, his eyes lit up. "I have a friend who owns a music restaurant. They're looking for a piano player, and the pay is good. You should give it a shot."

He remembered Amelia had won several international piano competitions in high school.

"Really? That would be amazing." Amelia wiped her tears. "Can I go now?"

Shawn drove her to the place.

Sapphire Music Restaurant.

Amelia knew this place; it looked low-key on the outside but was a high-end spot frequented by Chris's friends, known for its style and high prices.

Working here, she might run into people she knew. But what did it matter now?

Shawn introduced her to the manager, Gary Barnes. After playing a piece, she signed a one-year contract on the spot.

She didn't hesitate. The divorce left her with nothing.

She needed to work hard now, at least to support herself.

"Mr. Barnes, I'm short on money right now. Can you schedule me more shifts, preferably every day?" Amelia asked Gary.

The contract required her to work at least fifteen days a month, performing according to the schedule. The salary was twenty thousand dollars a day, paid daily. If she could work continuously for a week, she could make one hundred forty thousand dollars, and with some other ways, it was possible to earn five hundred thousand dollars.

For Shawn's sake, Gary agreed.

The next afternoon, as Amelia donned her gown and took her place on the stage, it felt like she was transported back to her student days, before she lost everything. Back then, the Tudor family wasn't facing financial ruin, and though she lacked her mother's affection, Paxton doted on her. He always said he had to make up for the ten years she was abandoned by her mother in the countryside due to her vision problems.

Amelia was engulfed in memories, channeling those emotions into her performance. From her playing, you could hear her journey from confusion, through sorrow, to acceptance. The beautiful and melodious tune flowed from her fingertips, swirling in the large restaurant.

"Is she your friend?"

On the second floor, a man with glasses swirled his wine glass, asking Shawn beside him.